


Suddenly, I'm respectable

by rainbowblue13



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Multi, RACETRACK AS A PRODIGY IS A HEADCANON I WILL CARRY TO MY GRAVE, Underage Smoking, so have this wip that took literal months to complete, this is so self indulgent lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 02:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13285491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowblue13/pseuds/rainbowblue13
Summary: In which Davey has a theory about Race, and things kind of go from there.(Basically: "Racetrack is actually a prodigy" headcanon)





	Suddenly, I'm respectable

**Author's Note:**

> \- this was in my WIPs for so long y'all have no idea  
> \- also the fic is about 9k long and thats 9k longer than it should be but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> \- my other series will be updated soonish, i swe a r  
> \- buttons and jojo are girls bc i love the marriott production to death  
> \- im uploading this at 1:51 am instead of doing my ap lang essay thats due monday whoops

"And... plus fifteen... no, wait, _minus_ fifteen... that ain't even... this is bullsh-!"

"Hey! Language." Davey raised his eyebrows at his little brother, looking scornful. God knew he loved Les, but the younger Jacobs was sometimes too restless for Davey to handle alone. 

Ever since they went back to school, Davey had been juggling his schoolwork with being a now part-time newsie— after all, the money still helped— but Les, being younger, was forced to be a full time student. Regardless, the young boy came to the lodging-house as often as he was allowed, usually forced to complete his homework by his older brother. The two had arrived earlier than usual today, so Davey had taken the chance to work on his own schoolwork as well, waiting for the newsies to return from selling the morning papes. However, Les' complaints had kept Davey from finishing a single problem.

Les looked up at him and crossed his arms, straightening his back from where he sat on the bed. "I ain't even talkin' worse than the others!"

Davey rolled his eyes, turning back to his own work as he ignored his bubbling frustration. "None of them are nine years old. Besides, if everyone jumped off a bridge young man, would you?"

Les shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably."

"What?! That's... you know what, that's a conversation for another day. Now, get ba-"

"And I'm ten! Have been for two months."

"Stop procrastinating!" Davey exclaimed, trying to focus on calculating the percentage of the first problem. "Just finish your homework, Les."

"I'm not 'pearcrastining', David! I don't get iiiiit!" Les whined and pouted, giving his older brother puppy eyes. "It's haaaard."

David was set on ignoring him but hesitated when he remembered how much Les actually  _did_ struggle with math sometimes. Sighing, he put down his workbook on the bed and walked over to his brother. "Which one are you on?"

After a few minutes, they heard the telltale sign of the newsies arriving, but David's warning glance kept Les in place. Still, he was bouncing with anticipation as Jack, Romeo, and Racetrack strolled in, all grinning. 

"Well, if it ain't the Secretary of State! And Davey! How ya doin'?" Jack ruffled Les' hair.

Race dropped his cap on the bed opposite to them and sat down on it with a thump, grabbing the cigar from his mouth. "Is Jailkeeper Davey makin' you do that school stuff?" Les nodded slowly, putting on his sad face. Romeo and Jack laughed as Davey sighed.

"I ain't a jailkeeper, Race. School's important."

"What, this pile of number papes?" Race picked up Davey's abandoned homework as he flipped through a couple pages, putting his cigar back in his mouth to have both hands free.

"It's called a workbook," Davey informed him. "It's for statistics."

"Why not call it a 'waste-o-time-book' instead? Has a better ring to it."

Les snorted.

Romeo leaned against the wall, smiling slightly. "Ya feelin' extra witty today, Race?"

"Nah, being 'witty' requires brains, Romeo: he ain't got none!" Jack teased, ducking out of the way when Race threw a used shirt at him.

Davey chuckled and shook his head. "It's  _not_ a waste of time, Race." 

The newsie in mention scoffed in response. "These number papes probably ain't even that hard."

"Yea, just try actually solving them." David joked, turning back to Les' work. "I bet you wouldn't find them so easy then."

Race's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "You  _bet_ , huh?"

"Oh boy." Jack and Romeo said in unison. Davey immediately had a bad feeling about this.

"... what?"

Race stood up from the bed, workbook in hand. "I bet you ten papes for tomorrow that I can solve these number things by the end of the day, _all_ correct."

"The  _entire_ workbook?!" Les gaped, homework forgotten.

"Nah, just the pages Mouth has to do for school." Race extended his right arm to David. "What d'you say?"

Davey glanced at Jack and Romeo for help, raising an eyebrow. They both shrugged. 

He thought about it for a few seconds before Race rolled his eyes. "C'mon Mouth, I ain't got all day. You'se taking up my precious daylight!"

_Well_ , Davey thought,  _what's ten papes?_

Shrugging slightly, he shook Race's hand. "Okay,  _but_ you have to do the process so that I know you're not just guessing."

The blonde grinned widely. "You have my word!"

Davey smiled back. "Good luck to you, then."

"Oooh, you just watch me make these stamps my bi—"

"Language!" David exclaimed, covering Les' ears on instinct.

At the same time, Romeo frowned. "Stamps?"

"Y'know, the thing he said. Stampistics, or something."

"Statistics, Race. It's statistics." David clarified, taking his hands off of Les' ears.

Jack chuckled, putting an arm around Race's shoulder. "You sure 'bout this, Higgins?"

Eyes glinting with determination, Race picked up Davey's stray pencil and started working.

* * *

A few hours later, Les had finally finished his homework and was watching some the guys playing cards, acting as the broadcaster for the event. Since it was one of the rarer occasions where Race didn't join in on a game, everyone else was buzzing with excitement to see who'd win. 

The few that weren't playing cards or spectating simply chatted, sharing their stories of the day. At the moment, Buttons was telling them about a pretentious lady she tried to sell to that morning.

"And I was thinking, Imma give her a compliment, try to sweeten her up a bit, maybe she'll buy a pape, so I says to her "I like your red dress, miss!" Real sweet of me right?"

Romeo, Davey, and Albert all gave murmurs of assent and nodded.

"But then she says all snottily that it's actually 'blood orange'. What the hell is blood orange? Oh, sorry, Davey."

He frowned. "Why are you sorry?"

"You don't like it when we swears, right?"

David chuckled lightly. "That's just around Les."

Buttons raised her eyebrows, seemingly pleased. "Oh, alright! So yea, I was like, shut up, it's fuckin' red—"

"To her  _face_?" Albert gasped.

"Ah c'mon, you think Buttons is that dumb?"

At the sound of a new voice, they all turned to see the newcomer. Race held the workbook in his hands, and he untucked the pencil he had placed on his ear, handing them both to Davey. Dumbfounded, the boy took back his school materials. He spoke as he opened up to the assigned page, "You finished."

Racetrack rolled his eyes. "Nah, I jus' gave these back to you for surrender— _of course_ I finished."

The other newsies, well aware of their ongoing bet, shuffled closer in anticipation.

"How's you gonna check if they'se right?" Romeo asked, tilting his head slightly.

Davey felt his mouth tug into a smile. "The answers are in the back."

Race's cigar fell to the floor. 

"You'se tellin' me that the _whole time_ I could've just put in the answers?!" He scoffed. "Like I was saying, waste of time!"

" _But_ you had to do the process, so even if you'd copied, you would've lost the bet." David pointed out. Race just frowned and picked up his cigar, not even dusting it off before putting it back in his mouth. 

"Whateva. They wasn't even hard, like I said. Just took me ages 'cause of that dumb 'process' of yours." He put up air quotes around the word process, and David figured Race was just trying to save face, so he ignored him in favor of checking the answers. 

David raised his eyebrows at the first problem. Huh, Race actually got the first one right. A stroke of luck, he reasoned.

After the second problem, Davey felt himself frown slightly. Okay, that was... interesting, but Race still had 18 more problems to go. It didn't prove anything.

Eighteen more word problems later, however, David had realized he was both pleasantly surprised and also completely screwed.

"Twenty outta twenty, how 'bout that? Pretty good for some 'supposably' real important, not-easy problems!" Race, of course, was gloating. He patted Davey on the shoulder, smirking. "I'm lookin' forward to those papes tomorrow,  _sweetheart_."

The boys teased David all night long for losing, but his mind was reeling. So he may have underestimated Race, but he also knew for a fact that most of the newsies have only been in school for one or two years at most when they were younger, if at all. Last he checked, statistics weren't taught below Les' age, and he found it highly unlikely that Race had been going to school in secret. So how did he get them all correct?

A thought occurred to David, and even after he left the lodging house he couldn't get it out of his head.

* * *

"Hey, Jack?"

It was the next day, and he and Jack were sitting in his quote-unquote penthouse, with Davey finishing another school assignment while Jack sketched.

"Yeah, Dave?"

"Have you ever noticed... something about Race?'

Jack kept sketching, shading the edges. "Noticed what?"

"That he's..." David thought for a second, unsure of how to word it. "... that he has a... natural aptitude."

Jack paused to look up at Davey, confused. "What d'ya mean?"

"Remember the bet? Where I had to give Race ten papes?" Jack nodded. "Okay, so I don't... look it's just... very hard for someone who doesn't go to school to solve those problems." Davey cringed internally, unsure of whether he was crossing a line. "Lots of my classmates struggle with it, and they've been going to school their whole lives. So I was wondering if there was ever another time Race had been... surprisingly smart." By that point, Jack had set down his sketchbook and had his eyebrows creased, looking straight at David.

"Maybe the other school kids are just dumber than Race. Or he guessed 'em all right, I dunno."

David sighed, "He wrote out his process though! Race knew what he was doing, and I don't know how he knew if he wasn't taught."

Jack huffed, adjusting his cap. "I dunno, Dave. What do you want me to say? I mean I guess he's a smart kid, all the boys are—"

"I think he might be a prodigy." Davey blurted.

"A  _what_ now?"

"It's... a prodigy is anyone that's exceptionally talented or smart since a very young age. I think no one noticed he was one because he was never in an environment where he could show his ability," 

Jack was silent, his eyes squinting slightly like they always did when he was thinking hard about something. After a few moments his eyes widened, as if he'd just had a realization. "The beds."

David wasn't sure he heard correctly. "What?"

"The be— back when we was organizing who sleeps where at the lodging house, Race kinda led the whole thing, and he somehow knew how many kids could fit per bed and how many more beds we could squeeze in without starvin' or runnin' outta room. No one had any idea how."

David was nodding along, his brain whirling. "That also explains why he might be big on gambling. He might be using probability and not even realizing it."

Jack's mouth was slightly agape, probably realizing how many things Race had done could be explained by Davey's theory. "Holy shit, Race is a genius."

"I'm not a hundred percent sure but yeah, it's definitely possible."

Jack leaned closer to the other boy. "What do we do now?"

Davey sighed, "I have no idea."

* * *

 

 

"Are you two sure about this?"

Katherine raised her eyebrows at the two boys, the three of them gathered in Jack's penthouse, which had apparently become the unofficial hub for "Holy shit Race might be a genius" meetings.

David looked at Jack and shrugged. "No, but it would explain a lot. And It's definitely possible."

Kath nodded, fiddling with her necklace. "And you're telling me of all people _why_ , exactly?"

Davey continued. "I mean, I'm in school and all, but I was thinking you probably had a better education and all, since... considering... well—"

"My father?" Katherine prompted.

"Yeah. That." Davey scratched his head awkwardly. "And maybe you'd be able to come up with a way to see if our theory is correct for sure."

Jack wrapped an arm around her, "'Sides Ace, you've proven to have some sneaky ways of finding information. You'se a reporter after all, right?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled fondly. "Yeah, but I don't know how you expect me to find out if he's a prodigy."

"Oh come on Kath, you probably already came up with a plan." David joked. She smirked in return.

"Maybe."

Davey blinked. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Damn, you work fast," Jack mumbled.

"I'll come by again tomorrow, same time. Make sure Race and one other newsie are there. Oh, and Les too. Don't ask," Davey closed his mouth after Katherine's last remark and decided to just trust her. She sighed, "Let's just hope this works."

* * *

Race wasn't sure what was happening, but he was sure Kath had something up her sleeve.

She'd showed up for no reason today, which was unusual, considering she usually spent her time either working or smooching Jack as far as Race knew. Then she'd recommended a "fun game" that didn't involve no playing cards or dice, which automatically bored Race. And playing the game was only Katherine, Race, Crutchie, and—

"Les, please don't eat the flashcards."

He stuck out his tongue at Katherine as Crutchie laughed. Race rolled his eyes. 

"Let's just get this over with, I wanted to sneak a visit to Brooklyn before sundown." He complained, his accent muddling the words.

"'Course you do, when have ya ever given up a chance to visit  _Conlon_?" Crutchie teased. Race responded with a gesture involving a particular finger.

"Settle down boys, this won't take too long," Katherine assured them, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Rules are easy: I'll show you guys a pattern: nine squares with shapes and colors in them, and then you pick the flashcard with the square you think completes the pattern."

Les fake-yawned, putting his head in his hands, "Bo-ring." Crutchie ruffled Les' head but also didn't seem to be won over.

" _And_ whoever wins gets this." She pulled out a dollar and set it on the counter. The three boys at the table leaned forward, suddenly much more interested. 

Race decided he didn't give a crap if this was some scheme on Plumber's part: he was gonna get that money.

"You got yourself a deal, Miss Plumber!"

After a few minutes of Crutchie silently humming, Les' colorful commentary, and Racetrack's sarcastic remarks, Kath began to look through all of their answers. 

Les smacked his hands on the table. "Come on lady, tell us who got the dough! Stop pearcrastining!" 

"It's ' _procrastinating_ ', Les." Davey corrected him from the other side of the room, where he had been talking to Jack.

"Ain't no one got time for yer fancy-schmancy words, Mouth. Let the boy say pearcrastining!" Race exclaimed, grinning when he saw how the other boy sighed in exasperation.

Crutchie turned around to look at Davey, smiling affectionately. "Don't listen to him David, he's just trying to push your buttons." 

"Well, he's succeeding, but thanks, Crutch." Davey smiled a bit, running his hands along the hem of his vest. Race rolled his eyes a bit.  _Could they be more obvious?_

He turned back to look at Katherine, who stared wide-eyed at their results. Raising an eyebrow, Race tried to lean over to see but Kath seemed to come to her senses and clear her throat.

"Alright, it looks like the winner is..." She paused for dramatic effect, "Racetrack!" Crutchie shrugged and Les pouted before shrugging as well and standing up, running off to find another newsie to play with. Race rubbed his hands together gleefully and picked up the dollar bill Katherine had put on the table, kissing it loudly. "Check me out, partner!" He stood up too, tucking the bill into his pocket. "Real fun game, Miss Plumber. Don't know why you did it, but I'll be damned if I care, long as I got my beautiful money!" Race patted Crutchie on the shoulder. "Sorry pal, better luck next time!"

Crutchie smiled and patted Race's hand. "Nah, don't worry 'bout me. You need that quarter more than me, seein' how you can barely sell your papes anyway." 

Race ruffled his hair as Crutchie swatted his hand away and gave him a cocky grin, and Race finally walked out of the room. Halfway to his own bed, he realized he forgot he was going to visit Spot. Muttering a string of curses, he hurried back downstairs to make it before the sun went down. Before he opened the door outside though, he heard people having a hushed conversation. Usually Race'd leave them to do their own thing (Albert was the gossip, not him), but he wanted to hit the streets as soon as he could, and they were in front of the main door. 

"Is it  _possible_ to get that number?"

"Yes, I just wasn't sure if Race's would be so high."

_Wait, what?_

Now again, Higgins was no eavesdropper; he believed people's business was their own business. But if someone was talkin' about  _him_ , then that made it his business now, didn't it?

Carefully, he set his ear as close to the door as he could, trying to make out the conversation.

"Well, he only beat Crutchie and Les by what, fifty points? Is that a lot?" 

"A ten point difference is usually noticeable so yes, Jack, it's a lot. And he beat them by a lot more than fifty points." Said... Katherine?

"So, he's a genius. We got a prodigy at the lodging house. You was right, Davey. Now what?" Race felt his heart speed up. Dammit. Did they really have to care so much 'bout that "genius" and "prodigy" stuff? He didn't want to just be a stuffy sourpuss who solved a buncha formulas or whatever for a living. 

Okay, so he _may_ have had a feeling he was smarter than the average guy beforehand. Big whoop. Not like knowing a buncha big words like Mouth would help him pay for food. It came in handy with the betting, and sure, maybe he liked showing off sometimes, but it wasn't like he was  _better_ than other kids who struggled with readin' the papes they sold or anything. He'd rather be known as a good person than a smart one, that's for sure.

"This means he has a lot of potential!" Yeah, it was definitely Katherine. "Someone with his IQ could make it really far in life, like Jack with his art."

Race recognized those two letters. He remembered readin' about it somewhere, some kinda level of smartness thing. He felt it was a complete crock of garbage. 'Sides, he didn't want to just be a _number_ to people.

Then another voice spoke. "This is... guys, I don't think you understand. He has so much potential. It's such a shame; he could've done so much if he could've stayed in school."

Race felt himself stiffen, his fists curling up. It had been Davey, but that particular detail didn't strike him as too important. Done eavesdropping, he pushed the door open loudly, ready to storm off to Brooklyn.

"Son of a— wait—"

"Who— Hey, hold on!"

"Race? Shit, Race!"

As much as he wanted to ignore them, Race still felt himself turn around to look at them. Katherine, Jack, and Davey were all gathered in a conspirational circle, hunching over a stack of papers. His results.

Fuming, Racetrack ground his teeth, crushing the end of his cigar in the process. 

"Oh don't ya worry 'bout explaining: I heard the whole thing. What's next, huh? Putting me in a cage with a wheel and seein' how fast I can run?!"

Katherine stepped towards him, "It-It's not like that—"

"Oh well it _sure fucking seems like it!_ " He was breathing a bit heavily now. Race wasn't sure if he was overreacting, but he couldn't find it within himself to care. "You just wanna see if I'm any good based on some useless number papers and tests. Well guess what? You don't get to tell me what I'se worth based on a number—"

"Race, you don't understand," Davey spoke up now, stepping closer as well. "You got a good score! This is a good thing!"

Racetrack looked at him with a face he hoped translated into "Are you fucking kidding me."

Jack tried to chime in too, "It's true, Davey's right. You'se— you'se real smart—"

" _I don't care!_ God, you— the three of you, unbelievable!" He sighed in frustration, glaring at them. "It ain't like I'm worth  _less_ just cause I didn't go to some stupid school for more than a year. I'm just a newsie— the king of New York, sure, but still— just 'cause I has a big score don't mean now I'm some kinda big shot!" Race felt himself get more fired up the more he spoke, his cigar now mostly ground to mush.

Davey looked nervous, but he still didn't get it. "Well, no, but you have the _potential_ to be—"

"Oh please, tell me how a poor, street boy some people don't even think is a boy has a smidgeon of a chance to be some kinda Pulitzer!" he spat out.

There was a moment of silence, Race breathing heavily as the three of them just stared at the floor guiltily. The silence was broken when Kath looked up and made eye contact with Race. "What did you mean? When you said 'some people don't think is a boy'?"

Race stiffened up again under Katherine's eyes, feeling exposed, like she was trying to stare through him and see if— no, no, fuck this, not _now_.

Jack immediately looked up at this, trying to cover up what Katherine had said while Davey continued to look like a kicked puppy. 

" _Forget it_. You don't have to explains to her, Jack. I'm goin' to Brooklyn. And you can keep your money bait" He threw Katherine's dollar to the floor, "Don't wait up." And with that, Race stormed off into the streets.

* * *

Spot Conlon only tolerated most Manhattan newsies.

They weren't tough like his boys, and ever since the strike he had been iffy about their leader Jack Kelly, so he was only civil to them, mostly cause of newsies "solidarity" and diplomacy and shit.

Racetrack Higgins though, he was another story.

It was almost as if that kid was his own team, always going from one place to another. He could be visiting Brooklyn, hanging out with Midtown, living with Manhattan; that kid got along with everyone— well, except for people he swindled, or people he won bets to, or people he lost bets to— actually, Spot retracted his statement. Race was a piece of shit.

But piece of shit that he may be, Spot still tolerated him more than other newsies.

And despite being the kind of guy that belonged to many different places, Racetrack was loyal: Spot could give him that much. Which meant that if someone got Race angry, they had fucked up. _Bad_.

From what he was gathering, either someone had fucked up beyond belief or it was more than one person that fucked up at the same time. All Spot knew was that it'd be a hell of a lot easier to figure out if Race was actually talking.

Being a quiet guy himself, he hated it when people pressed for small talk or stupid conversations; he decided to extend that kindness to Race and not make him talk 'bout anything he didn't wanna talk 'bout.

Currently, they were in Spot's "balcony", a fire escape that connected to his room. You could see a lot of Brooklyn from it, including the Brooklyn Bridge, which was especially handy for seeing if there'd be any unwanted visitors. Race swung his legs back and forth, sitting on the edge of the fire escape, while Spot was standing and leaning on the railing. It was dark now, and Spot didn't know why Race had chosen to visit so late either. He bit his tongue, afraid of saying something stupid to this kid, like asking why he was here or telling him that he was actually worrying Spot.

"Got any cigars?"

Race's voice shook him from his train of thought, and when he processed what the other newsie had said, he scoffed. 

"Sure, right next to my premium whiskey and fucking monacle. I ain't got no cigars, just some shitty cigarettes."

Race shrugged, "Those are fine."

Now that made Spot frown. Lotsa kids smoked, newsie or otherwise, but Race was particularly  _stubborn_ (note: stuck up) on his insistence that he'd only smoke cigars, some standard that Spot always chalked up to Race being weird. He's only seen Race smoke cigarettes on a few occasions, and they were never good ones.

What the hell _happened_?

Wordlessly, Spot retreated into his room, retrieving two cigarettes and a match before going back out with Race again. After he had lit the two up, they stared out into the skyline again. In silence. Which Spot didn't mind at all, 'cause they was just minding their own business, just how he liked it. He didn't give a shit what happened with Race.

I means, if Race  _happened_ to tell him, then Spot wouldn't mind either. 

"Ya don't smokes, usually." Race commented, taking another drag from his own cigarette. Spot shrugged.

"Ya don't smokes _cigarettes_ usually, either." There was a beat of silence, and Spot was almost sure he'd scream if Race kept up this silent-brooding thing, but Race spoke up again.

"Why d'ya hang out with me?"

Spot was a bit taken aback by the question but thought about it. He considered the sarcastic route, something like "I ask myself the same question," but decided against it.

"Jeez, I don't fuckin' know," Spot sighed, smoke drifting out of his mouth. "I just do. You'se annoying, but you'se tolerable I guess."

Race nodded, seeming content with that. After a few more moments, he broke the silence again. "Am I useful?"

Spot frowned. What kinda question was that?

"What kinda question is that?"

"Just... am I?"

"... You'se... well..." Spot took a quick drag of his cigarette, hoping it'd calm his nerves. Why was he nervous? "I can't really answer that Higgins. That's not how it works."

Race knit his eyebrows together, looking up at Spot. "What d'ya mean?"

"People ain't useful or useless, they'se just people. We'se all just trying our best out here." He sighed, avoiding making eye contact with Race. _Goddammit, Spot, pull yourself together._ "If you'se trying to classify people on how useful they are, you start to sound like a Pulitzer." Spot paused, glancing at Race, "If... if, for some reason, you'se worried 'bout... being useless—"

"I ain't worried 'bout that."

"I just wanna say that if ya did, that it's a load of crap, alright? So don't worry 'bout it. You ain't useless."

"I said that ain't what I'se worried about." Race muttered.

Spot rolled his eyes, "How'se I supposed to know? You haven't told me what you _is_ worried 'bout. And don't tell me you ain't worried 'bout nothing. You can't bullshit me, Higgins."

Race pursed his lips, throwing away his cigarette stub. "... I... I'se scared that people is only gonna want to use me. Instead of wantin' me for me." A beat of silence. "Whatever, it's dumb—"

"Shut the fuck up, it ain't dumb;" Spot threw out his cigarette stub too, finally turning to look at Race. "If people wanna use you, then they ain't worth your time. I knows you, Higgins, and you ain't someone who's gonna let people take advantage of you. You'll be fine. And there's definitely people that... y'know, people who do want you for you, not just whatever you can do." Spot felt his face get red and he turned back to look at Brooklyn instead of Race, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Ya ain't useful to me; you break my peace and quiet, you steal my cigarettes, but I... well. I like hanging with you anyways."

"... Thanks, Conlon." 

"Don't mention it."

Spot saw something move outta the corner of his eye, making him glance in the direction of the border— Brooklyn Bridge. He saw three figures talking to his guard boys, trying to get through.

"Who the hell comes at this hour 'sides you?" he muttered, straightening up. Race looked up and his face seemed to loose most of it's color in a couple of seconds. 

"They'se here for me. I'll handle 'em." Race stood up, but Spot put a hand on his chest to stop him from walking out. 

"Woah, heyheyehey, hang on! You got thugs after you?"

Race scoffed. "If you thinks Mouth could hurt a fly, then sure." Spot frowned and Race elaborated, "They just wanna apologize. I'll talk to 'em."

"They being...?"

"... Davey, Jack, and Kath."

Spot groaned.

"I knows you don't like 'em, so don't worry, I'll take 'em back to Manhattan. I won't let 'em into your territory."

"... Whatever."

Race rolled his eyes and shoved Spot's shoulder. "Thanks for the cigarette, glad to know whatever happens, you got a spare."

"Who's to say I'll give ya another one again?"

Race grinned. "You will."

"... Come on, get thems outta Brooklyn, they got no business here."

Racetrack adjusted his cap and gave him a navy salute, "Aye aye, Captain Conlon!"

Before he was out the door, however, Spot called after him again. "Hey, Higgins."

"Hm?"

"... You can always come to m... Brooklyn. Whatever happens."

Race's smiled at Spot again, more genuinely this time. "I know." And with that, Race was gone. 

Spot went back to his balcony, making sure Race made it to the others safely, despite it just being a two block walk. As he watched the four shadowy figures walk back to Manhattan, he found himself thinking that Mouth, Plumber, and Kelly better watch their backs if they upset Race like that again, or they'd regret it.

* * *

Davey had never wished for the ground to swallow him as much as he did right now.

After Race ran off, Crutchie and Mush had come outside, asking what all the yelling had been about. He gave them a quick run through of the situation, ignoring the pit in his stomach as he spoke, while Katherine and Jack had a silent conversation next to them.

"You'se telling me," Crutchie asked, scowling, "The three of you thought it was smarts to make Racetrack take a buncha tests 'cause you was  _curious?_ "

"... Yes?" Davey cringed.

Crutchie let out a huff of frustration. "Ya three are really somethin'. Didn't any of you stop for a second to think 'Hey, _maybe_ we should talk to Race about this!' while you were pullin' your shenanigans?"

"... No?"

Mush looked at Jack and Katherine, still talking on the side. "Crutchie's got a point, y'know. But also, uh, you'se tellin' me Race is some kinda genius?"

"Mush!" Crutchie reprimanded.

"What? It's a fair question!"

Jack and Katherine finally walked up to them, looking at Crutchie sheepishly. Jack cleared his throat. "So, uh—"

"I know, David told me," Crutchie sighed, rubbing his hand on his face as if trying to assimilate their stupidity. "I expected better from you three. Now what's next?"

"We need to go get Race and apologize," Katherine sighed, crossing her arms and hunching over slightly. "He said he was going to Brooklyn, but that's still a lot of ground to cover."

"It ain't." Jack said. "He always goes either to the races, which are closed, or he goes to visit Conlon. Getting there'll be easy, we just gotta figure out how to get _in_."

Crutchie gestured for Mush to go inside before turning back to the three of them and glaring. "Look, it's late. We'll go and drop of Kath, she can apologize tomorrow."

Katherine began to object, "Um _excuse m_ —?"

"If you get in trouble with Pulitzer it's worse. Race'll understand, your dad won't," She looked unhappy but remained silent. "Then me, Jack, and David will go to ask Spot's boys to give Race a message, saying you'se sorry and asking him to come back soon as he can, and we leave him be."

Katherine knit his eyebrows together in confusion. "Aren't you bringing him back?" 

"You'se comin' with us?" Jack asked at the same time.

"What about Les?" Davey interjected.

Crutchie held out his hand for them to shut up. "One at a time, jeez. If he wants to come with us, sure, but we shouldn't push it. He's safe with Spot anyways. And yes, I'm coming with you to make sure you goofs don't fuck this up. You better start thinkin' of a good apology." Crutchie threatened. Davey looked at the floor again to avoid his judging glare. "... And I told Mush to take Les to your house so he'll be safe." Without another word, the shorter boy turned around, readjusting his crutch and beginning the walk towards Pulitzer's house, expecting them to follow. They all shuffled behind him reluctantly.

As they walked, Davey gravitated towards Katherine, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Hey."

"Hi, Davey."

A beat of silence.

"What, um, what were you and Jack... talking about? Did he explain to you what Race said?"

"We just talked about how bad we felt. He wouldn't tell me what Race meant, said it wasn't for him to say," She sighed, wringing her fingers together. "I guess it really isn't my business. Besides, I think I've had enough of invading people's privacy for a bit." She chuckled dryly.

"It was all my fault, I brought you into this whole mess in the first place." Davey began rubbing the fabric of his vest between his fingers again, trying to calm himself down.

Kath put a hand on his shoulder, making him flinch slightly. When she saw his reaction, she retracted it quickly. "Hey, we all had our part in it, don't martyr yourself."

"Yeah, but I had the worst hand in it. Race hates me, and Crutchie probably does too."

Before she got to reply, they were already a block from the Pulitzer estate, since they couldn't get any closer whenever they had to drop Katherine off.

"Thank you guys, see you tomorrow." She paused before pursing her lips together, her eyes becoming slightly watery. "Please tell him I'm sorry."

Jack gave her a quick hug, whispering something before letting her go on her way.

 "Alright, time to visit Brooklyn," Crutchie said curtly.

* * *

Alright, so Racetrack was regretting his choices.

The walk back to the lodging house had been the most awkward in his life, and he's had to deal with a lotta awkward moments before (long stories). He had refused to hear Davey and Jack before getting back since it was getting late, and Crutchie seemed to be pissed off at them too, so he was icing 'em out.

That had also been surprising; he would've figured Katherine was with them but Crutchie explained that with it getting dark out, they didn't want to anger Pulitzer. Even after the strike, things had been tense between the so-called "Davids and Goliaths" of The World, so none of the newsies wanted to push the line at the moment. Crutchie said Katherine sent her apologies and that she'd visit him tomorrow to talk. As much as it pissed off Race, he understood that it was better to not burn any more bridges with the founder of The World. 'Sides, he wasn't looking forward to talking to anyone, much less the conspirators of his "experiment."

Regardless, sooner than he would've liked, they were back in Manhattan at the lodging house. He slowed his pace to a crawl, but the Crutch wasn't having that, moving so fast that Race actually struggled to keep up a bit (not that he'd ever admit it). 

Crutchie opened the door and began to go inside, but not before turning around and giving Davey a pointed stare. He seemed to get the message and went inside with Crutchie, leaving Race alone with Jack.

_Nevermind_ , he thought, _this is the most awkward moment of my life_.

Jack broke the silence. "Look, I... I should've known better—"

"Yeah, you should've." Race scoffed, though there wasn't much venom behind it now. Race looked at Jack, noticing how he was staring at the ground.

"And I'm sorry, okay?" Jack continued. "I wasn't thinkin' straight, it was dumb, I should've come to you. I kno—"

"Oh, what the hell. Fine."

Jack froze. "What?"

"I forgive ya, it's fine. Well, it _wasn't_ fine but—"

"Just like that? You kiddin' me? I had a whole thing planned!"

Race felt a grin on his own face. "I ruined your apology?"

Jack looked at Race with an expression that made him want to burst out laughing. "Well— yeah! Yeah, you did. You ruined it Race. It was gonna be a sweet, heartwarming moment and— and you just ruined it!"

Race just shrugged. "Shame. Wanna try again? You can still do it—"

"Nah, it's over, moment's done, forget it." Race laughed as Jack playfully shoved his shoulder, both boys now comfortably leaning against the wall of the lodging house.

Jack frowned slightly after a moment, turning to look at Race again. "Seriously, why'se you letting me go so easy? You was mad as hell before."

Race bit his thumbnail in an effort to stall before sighing. "Look, for starters, I know's you didn't start this thing, just jumped on the bandwagon. And outta the three of you, you weren't making as big of a fuss outta my... situation."

"You shouldn't be so hard on Davey and Kath either, y'know. It was bad, I know, but they only want what's best for you. We just went about it the wrong way."

Race bit his other nails intermittently as Jack spoke, and then tried to put on a teasing tone. "You'se just saying that cause you don't want your _sweetheart_ to feel bad, huh?" 

Jack became flustered, which wasn't the reaction he was expecting, "Wh— well, I, uh, that wasn't— wasn't what I was— Really, not just cause of that, uh. Yoi should go easy on Ace too— tomorrow I mean."

Race stopped biting his nails for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. "I thought Miss Plumber  _was_ your sweetheart. Did you two split up? Wait, so when I said 'sweetheart' you thought I meant..." A pause. " _Hoooly shi—_ "

"Hey, heyheyhey! You got Spot, so don't come at me with—"

"I ain't dating Conlon, but  _you_ —"

"I ain't dating Davey either! Not yet anyways. No wait, that's beside the point."

"I think Davey and Crutchie have heart eyes for each other, though." Race mused.

Jack opened and closed his mouth a few times, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Well. I mean... Crutchie's also... well..."

Race smirked. "You like 'em both, don't ya?"

"When did this apology turn into a yapping session? What are ya, a cop?" Jack's accent grew thicker, his face red.

Race put his hands up in defeat chuckling. "Whatever, none of my business anyways. Wish you luck though."

Jack sighed, straightening his vest as he stood up from leaning on the wall. "Thanks. Appreciate it. Imma send Davey out here. Uh, please d—"

"I won't tell him, _jeez_ , calm down Jumping Jack. Just get Mouth out here."

"Alright, alright, fine. Also, uh, thought you should know: I didn't tell Ace. About what you meant before. You should only tell her when you'se okay and feel safe about it."

Race nodded, feeling relieved. "Does... since we'se on the same boat here— does she know about you?"

Jack nodded, "She was okay with it."

Race nodded again, thankful that whatever happened, Katherine wouldn't mind. Or maybe she was only okay with it 'cause it was Jack? He pushed the thought away, storing it away for tomorrow.

Suddenly, Race remembered Jack's comment earlier about how "You got Spot," but before he could ask, Kelly was gone, sending out a sheepish Davey Jacobs.

"... Uh, hi."

"So you'se the one that figured it out first, right?"

David blinked, caught slightly off guard. "Yeah. When you, the— wh- when you did my workbook and won the bet? I thought it might be possible. I just didn't—"

"— Think I'd already know?"

Davey nodded, fidgeting with his vest fabric. "Basically."

Race sighed, going back to chew on his nails as he waited for David to continue.

"I'm... sorry. I really, really am. I thought I was doing the right thing but clearly I... well. I'm, uh, really bad at talking to people. Or well, it's not that. I'm not the best at... knowing how people will react to things?"

Race nodded, well aware that while Davey had definitely grown as a person during his time with the newsies, he still had some difficulty in adjusting to new things.

"Well... I had thought that maybe, well, if my theory was correct— and it _was_ correct, but that's not really the point so I digress," Race snorted as Davey paused to take a breath. "I thought that you'd want to know if you were, um, that. But it was wrong, and I shouldn't have gone behind your back. So, I'm sorry. Again."

He felt himself sigh as Davey stood stiffly, awaiting his verdict.

"Just... promise not to do anything like that again."

"Wh— yeah, of _course_ , I promise, I swan, obviously I'd never—"

"Yeah yeah, just calm down, Mouth. You'se so strung up you could snap." Davey frowned slightly, staring at him. Race rolled his eyes. "It means you look tense as fuck."

"Oh. Sorry."

Race snorted again. "You don't need to keep apologizing."

"S— okay. I just— usually I, uh, I do a lot of wrong things at once so it's easier to just say 'sorry.' Just in case."

"'Just in case' is the most Davey Jacobs phrase I has ever heard."

David shrugged. "Probably because I said it."

There was a beat of silence before Race started to giggle, straight up  _giggle_ , and then wheeze with laughter as Davey struggled to contain his own laugh.

"Oh my god you'se fucking ridiculous."

Davey grinned, seemingly pleased with himself. "I'm gonna admit, with the scenario Crutchie was painting for me, I thought you were going to like, bitchslap me."

"Nah, Crutchie just likes to put his intimidation tactics to use sometimes. He's pretty scary when he's angry."

Davey shuddered. " _Yup_. Anyway, you should go back inside. It's way too late and we need to be up early tomorrow."

"Ain't it a fine life," Race muttered, finally getting up after leaning on the wall for god knows how long. "And I'll tell Crutchie to ease up on you and Jack. I'd hate for all of you guys to be fighting cause of me."

Davey's face went pink. "Well, I mean, it's— you don't have to worry about that—"

Race rolled his eyes and muttered, "Christ, the three of you are a mess."

"What?"

"Nothing."

* * *

The next morning Race felt himself being poked awake. He swatted the hand away and tried to go back to sleep before he felt his ratty blanket being ripped from him. "Who the _fu_ —"

"Calm down Race, it's just me."

He looked up at Romeo blearily, frowning slightly.

"Time to sell papes?" Race asked, yawning.

"Almost, but also Kath's here to see you for something. She wouldn't tell me what."

He felt his gut drop as he remembered everything that happened yesterday. He wasn't exactly looking forward to this conversation, but he also knew he couldn't go sell papes in peace if he didn't deal with it.

"... Hey, uh, is you... Are you okay?"

Race blinked himself out of his train of thought and turned back to Romeo. "Uh, yeah. Tell her I'll be there in a minute." He sat up in bed slowly only to notice Romeo hadn't moved, looking at Race with a worried gaze.

"If anything happened, y'know you can tell me, right? Whateva you need. I'se here if you need to talk."

Race felt his chest grow with warmth, wanting to show gratitude for his friend's kindness.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

_Nailed it._

Romeo grinned and patted Race's shoulder, quickly turning and running out of the room to update Katherine.

After dressing up hastily and throwing some old rags at Albert for trying to hide his suspenders under the bed, Race trodded down to the main floor to find Katherine "Plumber" Pulitzer playing thumb war with Romeo. Race cleared his throat in amusement and they both turned to look at him like children caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Morning, Miss Plumber." Race greeted, trying to contain his grin (and probably failing miserably).

Romeo gave Katherine a quick bow and a wink, "I'll beat you in the rematch!" and ran outside to get a headstart to the rest of the newsies.

Katherine and Race stood there for a few moments before the latter cleared his throat. "Uh, so Romeo said you wanted to talk to me for something?"

She nodded. "Yes, I was simply... trying to put my words together. I'm really, truly sorry Race. It wasn't my business, and I definitely shouldn't have... well, tested you for the sake of being curious. I didn't consider your feelings, and I was a bad friend. I hope you can forgive me, no matter how long it takes, and I promise to be better." She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as if awaiting judgment.

Race whistled and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Well I'll be damned, that's the best apology I has ever heard," she chuckled nervously as he continued, "I mean, I didn't really let Jack apologise cause I was too tired to deal with that, and Mouth's a great guy and all but he gets too stuck in his own head sometimes."

She sighed and scratched the back of her neck. "Yeah well, I told the boys to tell you I was sorry but I knew that that wasn't gonna cut it, considering what I did."

Race knit his eyebrows together. "I don't think they mentioned it, actually. Maybe Crutchie did, I can't remember."

"Ugh, those boys are impossible."

He laughed, and something from last night popped into mind. "Hey uh, so I heard from Jack that you two ain't an item no more."

Kath shrugged. "It was nice while it lasted, but we both realized that the tension from the strike had been a bigger factor than we thought. We're on good terms, though! We talk a lot, and we've even started hanging out with both Sarah and Davey sometimes."

"Who's this Sarah?"

"Davey's older sister."

Race felt his mouth open in surprise, "Davey's what now?"

Katherine laughed. "Oh boy, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it. She's pretty– I mean, pretty great, and really nice."

"Can't believe there's another Jacobs, we oughta meet her sometime, huh? Maybe she can join us one day and sell like Buttons and Jojo." He was joking but was surprised by Katherine's sudden nervousness.

"Oh, well, there's a lot of flirters here, so I'm not sure if–"

"What do flirters gotta do with anything?"

"Uh, well, nothing really, it was just– why are you smiling, shut up!"

Race grinned. "I didn't say nothing!"

"Sure you didn't." Katherine joked, but he noticed she was wringing her fingers like there was no tomorrow and biting her lip slightly.

"I don't mind, y'know. If you happen to like girls. None of us mind. You'se safe here; a lot us is in the same boat, even, liking boys and such."

She looked up at him, looked a little relieved. "I'll be honest, I didn't think any of you would be, well–"

He snorted. "Are you kidding? We'se a buncha teenagers outcast by high-class folk who share beds, what did you expect?"

Katherine rolled her eyes, "Okay you have a point, but still. I'm assuming that if that's the case for that, then there are a few kids that are like Jack too?"

Race was about to ask what she meant by that before the realization hit. "Oh. Yeah, that too," he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets to try and appear casual. "Myself included."

"... That's what you meant last night, right? 'A boy some people don't even think is a boy'?" She simply smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "It's okay.  _I don't mind, y'know?_ " Katherine tried imitating his accent from earlier, earning a chuckle and a subsequent groan from Race.

"Is that the best you can do impression wise? You disappoint me, Plumber."

"That's  _Miss_ Plumber for you, Higgins."

He wrapped an arm around her. "Good to have you back."

"Same goes for you."

* * *

Jack didn't mind this.

It was the morning, the sun was up, and things seemed alright again.

He tossed Jojo another newsie bag since the one she picked up was torn, and in return, she gave him a thumbs up and a laugh as Jojo pointed behind him. Confused, he turned to see Romeo in a thumb war with Blink, both of them intensely focused. He also caught sight of Specs giving Albert a piggyback ride for some reason and Finch reaching for his sling as Buttons held it out of reach for him. The rest of the newsies were simply milling about, waiting for the headline to be put up.

"Nice view?"

He turned to see Crutchie looking out at the lot of them as well. Jack smiled at him.

"Sure is."

"Any idea when Race is coming along, by the way? Romeo said he woke him up early but I ain't seen him."

Jack craned his neck, looking through the crowd. Finally, he spotted a familiar face approaching the gate. Racetrack waved, and they both waved back.

"I'm glad all of you sorted out that mess," Crutchie stated.

Jack patted his shoulder. "We couldn't have done it without you."

The other boy snorted in response, standing up straighter. "Yeah, what would you all do without me?"

He took a second to think about it. "Probably die from doing something really stupid."

"Don't doubt it."

They stood in silence for a few more minutes as everyone else buzzed with energy. Jack cleared his throat, feeling slightly nervous. "Uh, I do want to say thank you. For real. I appreciate what you did."

Crutchie turned to look at him in awe before smiling genuinely. "No problem. After all, what are friends for?"

He raised an eyebrow in return. "I thought you'd said I was your brother or something, was my position revoked?"

"Jeez, that's a fancy word, Kelly. Spending too much time with Katherine again?" Crutchie teased.

"You'se avoiding the question."

He shrugged and turned to look away from Jack. "Well, I mean, brother didn't really seem to... fit."

Jack felt his stomach drop a little. "Oh."

"Yeah but I means, 'friend' also seems to fall a bit short, huh?" Crutchie mused, drumming his fingers on the handhold of his crutch.

"Suppose it does." And Jack's heart definitely wasn't speeding up at the moment, nope. "Maybe we'se more than friends but not brothers."

Crutchie nodded slightly. "Yeah. I guess so. Wonder what that makes us." 

Before Jack could say anything else a wave of clamoring spurted as the headline was being put up. As the gates opened, he was gonna continue his talk with Crutchie before someone else ran up to them.

"Morning, Dave!" He greeted.

Davey smiled brightly at both of them, his face flushed pink from running. "Morning! Sorry to be running late–"

"Ah no worries, we all oversleep sometimes." Crutchie joked, grinning at him.

Davey laughed slightly, making Jack's heart definitely not speed up again, before Race yelled out to the three of them.

"Hurry up lovebirds! These papes won't sell themselves!"

It was the morning, the sun was up, and Jack was gonna fucking  _kill_ Race.

**Author's Note:**

> \- let the newsies be trans and gay 2k18  
> \- the spot and race scene is the best thing ive written in my life  
> \- feel free to kudos/comment and validate me


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